A few photo opportunities ensued.
A web of deceit
A few (fig) leaves of respectability
In the graveyard of freedom.
Herself was concerned when she returned to find the house locked up, the fire out and the kettle boiling. Not a sign. I had passed into the churchyard and was presenting a damp, solitary figure to the memorial masonry of previous generations. Lost in contemplation of my own mortality.
(So the sun didn't cleave the woodwork then. God, but you can be a miserable bugger sometimes...Ed!)
